


A Brief Equinox

by dustoftheancients



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Reylo - Freeform, and it festers like a poison, it's about debt and grudging attraction, power caught on something human and biological, the Force sticks to cells like a cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 08:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10553242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustoftheancients/pseuds/dustoftheancients
Summary: In saving Rey, Kylo Ren has been captured by the resistance. She tells herself that it doesn't matter. She should stay away from him. Shewantsto stay away from him. And yet - she finds herself drawn down the steps, down to his cell.It's like being drawn towards a hurricane.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was my submission to the Reylo Short Story Collection vol. 1, issue 1: Balance. If you're interested (and you should be, because there was some _great_ talent that participated in this thing) you can find the full PDF version if you go to the RSSC homepage [here](http://reyloshortstorycollection.tumblr.com/). There was some _spectacular_ art drawn for my story (and for everyone else's!), so I highly recommend checking it out.

The first thing Rey learns when she wakes up is that Kylo Ren was the one to save her.  
  
Luke says it gently, like it isn't the most earth-shatteringly strange thing for her to hear.   
  
“He saved you.”   
  
At first she thinks she's dreaming, because she hurt her shoulder and she's still got some pain medication in her system. But then he says it again.   
  
“Kylo Ren was the one who saved your life.”   
  
Her heart clenches in her chest and refuses to beat for a solid minute. Or maybe an hour. It feels like an hour.

“Why?” she finally asks. Her throat feels parched.

Why would he do that?  
  
Why would he save her?   
  
She's his enemy, she's hurt him and he's hurt her, why would he-   
  
The look on Luke's face isn't very readable. He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “You'll have to ask him that.”

* * *

The stairs leading down to the cell are dark and dank, slippery from years of erosion. She keeps one palm pressed firmly against the stone wall as she descends, although it is just as wet and leaves a dirty residue on her hand.  
  
She doesn't see another soul until she gets to the bottom and rounds a corner. There, two guards stand at the end of a short hall. It's the only indication that anything is down here at all.   
  
They jump when they see her, and then straighten.   
  
“Ma’am, you can't be down here.”   
  
“The General gave me permission.” The lie slips out so easily it surprises her.

The two guards exchange a look. She knows they've noticed the lightsaber hanging off her belt, but giving her credibility isn't the only reason she's brought it with her.  
  
She can't enter that room without a weapon. Without some way to defend herself.   
  
Dwelling in indecision frustrates the two guards apparently, because one of them nods. “Alright, go ahead. But be quick and be careful.”   
  
Rey swallows.   
  
“I will be.”   
  
The door, when they open it for her, is made of heavy stone, but it doesn't lead directly into the cell. It just opens into another short hallway, this one even darker than the rest. The door closes behind her as soon as she steps across the threshold, cloaking her in the dark.   
  
It's cold and wet down there, and that puts her even more on edge. She isn’t used to to dealing with either of these feelings, or the gooseflesh it causes on her arms.   
  
She takes several steps down the hall, her boots echoing wetly in her ears, before she sees the light. It's several more step before she can see where it's coming from – a small lantern tucked to the side, placed just beyond a transparisteel wall.   
  
Rey reaches the cell. And only then does she realize just how long they've been trying to catch him, how long they've had this place prepared.   
  
They built the cell into the old complex, added a transparisteel wall and fortified the floors and ceilings. The only thing that has been left untouched are the stone walls, but that makes sense. Luke had told her that the stone from this planet was so thick that even lightsabers couldn't cut through it.   
  
The cell is dark, besides the lantern, but from what she can tell it's well made. That doesn't make her feel much better, but it's something. Makes her feel less like they're all unprepared, at least.   
  
It's the state of the prisoner that no one had counted on.   
  
She the least of all.   
  
Kylo Ren lies on the durasteel bench in the back of the cell – an addition made at the General’s request, no doubt – his limbs so long that both his legs hang off the end. The Resistance hadn't bothered to shackle anything but his wrists, which would've appalled her if he wasn’t in his current state.   
  
Snoke had nearly killed him. Even from that distance, and despite the long shadows, she can tell. Peeking out from behind his dark clothes are bandages and bacta patches. And she knows there is a lot of damage she can't see.   
  
He did it for her, supposedly. After she had been knocked out.

Luke’s words ring in her ears like a bell toll.  
  
_He saved you-_   
  
But she locks that thought away because it is too confusing and too unnerving. She pretends she doesn't know why he did it, that no one ever told her.   
  
He’s just...breathing. He doesn't move. It's like he hasn't even sensed her.   
  
And he always senses her.   
  
She raps her knuckles against the transparisteel. The sound is more jarring than she means it to be.   
  
Kylo Ren jolts, and so does she. Thankfully, he doesn't notice.   
  
He slowly pushes himself up, wincing as he turns so that he's sitting on the bench. She can hear how controlled his breathing is, how focused. He must be in a great deal of pain, she thinks.   
  
Good.   
  
Except, her traitorous brain adds, this pain was meant for you-   
  
“Scavenger.”   
  
He sounds...almost surprised. Definitely pleased.   
  
It agitates her.   
  
“Settling in?” she bites out, suddenly unsure of what to say. She doesn't know why she came here. What does she want– to confront him, to hurt him? She's already done both.   
  
To kill him?   
  
He doesn't respond to her question. Instead, he plants his feet on the ground and studies her. His lower lip is busted and a bruise travels up from the side of his mouth to his cheek bone. It looks blackish in the low light, like some sort of darksider’s mark. The scar she gave him shines a molten purple, marring the other side of his face.   
  
The rest of his skin looks like bleached bone in comparison.   
  
“As resilient as ever,” he speaks as if he's complimenting her. “Is your shoulder alright?”   
  
“Don't worry about me,” she snaps, suddenly hyper-aware of the bacta patch clearly visible on her shoulder. She should have changed her shirt, shouldn't have shown him a weakness. “I can take a beating better than you can, apparently.”   
  
She doesn't know why she says it; he took far more of a beating than she did, and they both know it. Or, maybe it’s just her.   
  
Does he expect her to know what he did?   
  
Rey half-expects him to lash out either way, to stand or snarl and remind her just what he had lived through. A lesser man would've died, or something like that. Something conceited.   
  
Kylo’s expression darkens, but he doesn't snarl. He gingerly leans back against the wall, the shadows on his face deepening. For a moment the doesn't say anything.   
  
It’s driving her crazy how he is just watching her.   
  
She can't help herself. “What, nothing to say? Usually you have a comeback.”   
  
There is a deliberate boredom to his tone that strikes her as petty. “Miss my sense of humor, scavenger? That's sweet.”   
  
She scoffs. “Hardly.”   
  
His tone hardens as he finally scowls at her. It's a familiar look on him, a tether to the reality she has come to know. She's almost grateful for it.   
  
“Then why are you here?” He tries to hide the way his breath hitches at the end. The pain he emanates reaches out to her like a wave, but she mentally draws away from it.   
  
Rey presses her lips together.   
  
She has no answer for him, not that she would be inclined to give it if she did.   
  
Silence stretches between them, thick and awkward. He shifts his back a little and flexes his fingers. They left him his gloves, which strikes her as a little strange until she realizes that they didn't change him out of his clothes at all but had simply stripped him of his outer robes, leaving him in little more than his dark undershirt, pants, and boots.   
  
He reminds her of the old star destroyers on Jakku, broken and stripped of anything of use. Anything of power.   
  
And he must realize it, on some level. He must realize that he's been defanged.   
  
He's taking it better than she would have thought.   
  
Which means he must be planning something.   
  
“Must be hard for you,” she keeps her tone neutral as she says this, as if she's not goading him for a response. “Knowing that you've been caught by the Resistance must be quite a blow to your pride.”   
  
“So you’ve come to gloat?” he scoffs. His fingers clench into fists. “How-”   
  
He trails off, averting his gaze to the darkness of his cell. It presents her with a plain view of his bruise.   
  
He's not unattractive, she thinks out of nowhere. Horrified, she stamps down on the thought with a fury. Tries to forget that she ever thought it.   
  
Something in him deflates.   
  
“Just go away, scavenger.”   
  
“I’m not leaving until I decide-”   
  
His gaze snaps back towards her. “Get. Out.”   
  
It's a demand he has no right making. It raises her hackles and makes her instantly combative. Giving in to him will just make him feel like he's in control of the situation, and she loathes that thought.   
  
But pain laces his words, even if he tries to hide it. His fists are shaking, and his breathing is loud. Even in the dim lighting, she can see the slight sheen of sweat on his skin.   
  
He's in bad shape, she realizes- worse than she thought.   
  
She could call him out on it.   
  
But Luke's words-   
  
_He saved you._   
  
With as much dignity as she can muster, she turns to leave. The hallway leading to his cell seems so much darker now that her eyes have adjusted to the light, even the weak one from the lantern. Her footsteps make a shuffling sound against the stone in the same way they had when she had come.   
  
She had expected to feel better, somehow. Or, at least, to have a better grasp of the last forty-eight hours. All she feels is angry, and she's no less confused.   
  
Rey doesn't make it far before she hears his sigh- it's long and shaky as a piece of flimsy in the wind.   
  
His breath chases her down the hallway.

* * *

Kylo Ren gets three square meals a day – more than she ever had back on Jakku – and medical treatment once a day. Rey only knows because every time someone goes down to see him Luke stops her training and accompanies them. She doesn't know if he insists on going or if most members of the Resistance are just unwilling to be in a room alone with Kylo; she suspects it's both, really.  
  
It goes on like that for a week, until one morning General Organa herself interrupts them during their morning meditation.   
  
Or, at least, Luke’s morning meditation. For Rey, it's always more an exercise in not falling asleep.   
  
The General appears in the doorway to the balcony Luke has chosen as their meditation spot. It overlooks the vast jungle that surrounds the base, all of the way to a line of mountains that peak up against the horizon. It's beautiful, but General Organa doesn't spare the scenery a glance. Her expression is pointedly neutral as she stands there, waiting for her brother to notice her.   
  
Rey’s concentration immediately evaporates. The General has never shown up before- she's barely even seen her more than a handful of times since D’Qar. Her sudden appearance must mean that there's something important she wants to talk about.   
  
After a long moment, Luke opens his eyes. He spares a small smile for his sister.   
  
“Leia. Is everything alright?”   
  
The General crosses her arms. “Can I speak to you?”   
  
_In private_ is what she means. Rey can take a hint. She pushes herself to her feet.   
  
“Why don't you get yourself some breakfast?” Luke offers as he also gets up, albeit much more slowly.   
  
She nods, grateful for the chance to get food, and because she won't have to meditate any longer. “Alright.”   
  
The General gives her a brief smile as she passes, worn but genuine. Rey tries to return it, but the General’s attention has already moved back to her brother. Rey moves quickly towards the door, wanting to give the two of them their privacy. A few words reach her ears regardless.   
  
“It starts today, doesn't it?”   
  
Luke’s voice is low, but it carries more than hers when she says, “Yes. After a week of bacta treatments-”   
  
The door whooshes open when Rey presses the button beside it on the wall. She can't resist a quick glance over her shoulder as she leaves. Luke has that same world-weary look on his face that he did when she first found him on his island. She can't see the General’s face, but her posture is rigid.   
  
She doesn't really see anything in that strong woman – or Luke, for that matter – that reminds her of that dark _person_ they have in captivity.   
  
The door shuts behind her, cutting off her view.

* * *

Luke doesn't come find her to resume their training for the day, and when she goes to look for him he is nowhere to be found. That can only mean that either he went straight down to Kylo after his talk with his sister, or that he had been pulled into some other private affair. The latter doesn't seem likely to her, since he doesn't usually involve himself in the leadership of the Resistance.  
  
A spark of irritation flares up in her at the thought that he went to visit his nephew instead of continuing her training. It's irrational, she knows, but she can't help herself. Her training has become the best way to defend herself in this wide mess of a galaxy, especially against the more powerful who wish her harm. People like Snoke, or Kylo Ren.   
  
But – she can't really count him, her brain whispers. Not if he saved her.   
  
Before she realizes it, her thoughts have carried her to the first set of stairs to the basement. To the cell. She had no desire to see Kylo again – she doesn't – but she thinks she can wait just outside the guarded door for Luke. Maybe he will sense her and her impatience, as he always seems to do.   
  
That's what the morning meditations are for, in part. To help calm her natural impatience.   
  
She hasn't made any major breakthroughs.   
  
The guards don't seem particularly happy to see her, but they don't say anything. A shiver runs down her arm when she leans it against the cold wall, which is much colder than she had expected. So she just stands there with her arms crossed against the chill.   
  
Kylo she can sense clearly through the door, his presence a distinctive sort of curve in the Force. He feels like a self-contained maelstrom. She can sense Luke as well, but he is muted, calmer, and Kylo's stormy presence almost overpowers his.   
  
Yet she can't deny the pull she feels, the desire to stomp in there and – well, she doesn't quite know what she wants to do. She wants to stay outside the door.   
  
But she wants to go in, too.   
  
It's too confusing to dwell on why.   
  
Luke emerges after an eternity, looking entirely too tired for what should have been just a quick visit. To Rey's surprise, he is followed by two Resistance generals and someone who looks like a medical officer. They each give her a glare that tells her very clearly that they do not want her in this area, but no one bothers her when Luke lays a hand on her shoulder.   
  
“Come on, Rey,” he sighs, and seems very old. “Let's finish your training for the day.”   
  
He doesn't admonish her for being down there. He doesn't even question how she knows where Kylo's cell is. He just gives her shoulder one pat and drops his hand, turning to leave after the rest of the visitors.   
  
The door is already shut. Rey almost has an urge to ask the guards to open it again-   
  
“Rey?” Luke calls.   
  
She turns away. “Coming.”

* * *

The next day, Luke still has the same heart-broken look on his face.  
  
And the next.   
  
And the next.   
  
It's not difficult for Rey to realize that it has something to do with his nephew. He has always been somber after his visits with Kylo, but the sudden change concerns her, despite herself. Obviously, something's changed. It's no use trying to pretend to herself that she isn't wildly anxious to know what's going on.   
  
She waits until Luke readies himself to acompany the Resistance soldier tasked with bringing Kylo his evening meal.   
  
Rey hesitates only a moment before she speaks up. “I can go.”   
  
Both the Resistance soldier and Luke give her a surprised look. She tries to look unaffected.   
  
“You will?” Luke asks, somewhat skeptically. “You haven't wanted to see my nephew until now.”   
  
It's difficult not to automatically defend herself. She doesn't want to see him. She's just curious. “I just thought I'd give you a break.”   
  
Luke still looks a bit skeptical, but he nods. He almost looks relieved. “If you're sure.”   
  
“Of course,” she says, trying to make it sound like it doesn't matter to her at all. As if it could be Kylo Ren or a droid in that cell and she wouldn’t care less. She nods to the soldier. “Let's go.”   
  
She doesn't speak to the soldier until they get to the bottom of the first flight of stairs where the stone is always a little damp and the air is chilled.   
  
She turns to him. He looks distinctly uncomfortable.   
  
“I will take it past the door.” She tries to sound authoritative. She doesn't actually have any power to tell anyone in the Resistance what to do, but he might listen to her if she sounds like she does.   
  
Maybe it works, or maybe the soldier just doesn't want to be face-to-face with the storm that is Kylo Ren. He nods.   
  
“Whatever you say.”   
  
She takes the tray from him. When the guards see her holding it, they let her through without a word.   
  
“Be quick,” one of them says, the same as last time.   
  
Rey doesn't allow herself to hesitate again before she steps over the threshold. This time the darkness somehow strikes her as thicker, the air colder. She clenches her teeth to keep them from chattering. The food she carries isn't warm; it's just a nutrient shake and a glass of water. She thinks that if she was stuck down there all she would want would be a hot cup of caf.   
  
But Kylo Ren doesn’t deserve a hot cup of caf. He hardly deserves his three square meals a day.   
  
Her footsteps echo loudly as she draws near to the tiny light from the cell. She doesn't remember her footsteps sounding so loud in her ears, so sharp and staccato, broadcasting her location like a beacon.   
  
Surely he hears her coming.   
  
Surely he knows it's her.   
  
Why it's important to her that he does know she has no idea. She just knows that she wants him to recognize her. But this is Kylo Ren, she reminds herself. This storm that she's going to see has called out to her since they first met.   
  
Of course he recognizes that it's her.   
  
He stares at her when she comes to a stop in front of his cell. His expression is mostly cast in shadows, but she can see the lilt of his brow, the tilt of his jaw. He hadn't expected her to come.   
  
Kylo waits for her to speak first, which surprises her a little.   
  
“I have your dinner,” she says needlessly, because he can see the tray she holds well enough. But it's something to say that other than ‘hello, bantha fodder,’ which is the only other thing she can think of.   
  
He's sitting on the bench again, his back hunched. He clutches his left forearm with his other hand like he's hiding something, although it's probably just another bandage under his sleeve. He doesn't make a move to stand.   
  
“Should I thank you for your hospitality?” he sneers, and the venom in his tone actually takes her aback. Instantly, her temper rises to match.   
  
“You're lucky that you're getting fed regularly,” she throws back at him. “You're lucky no one has tried to put a blaster bolt between your eyes or that no one spaced you before we landed.”   
  
He pushes himself to his feet, and she can see that he isn't fully healed yet by how he winces, how he's very careful with his weight. He draws closer to the transparisteel, further into the light cast by the lantern. Rey presses her lips together; his facial bruising looks worse than it had before, which she knows means it's healing, but-   
  
Kylo leans his forearm against the transparisteel. His tone levels out in a way that puts her on guard. “You're right, scavenger. I should be thankful that your people have locked me in a cell for the few days I have left. That’s so gracious of you.”   
  
She rolls her eyes. “Don't be melodramatic.”   
  
But he isn't done. “And letting me speak to the top echelon of the Resistance, day-in and day-out, while also having to put up with Skywalker’s insufferable pity? How kind. And my mother, where is she? I should give her my thanks as well.”   
  
A large part of Rey just wants to drop his food to the floor and stomp out. Leave him to stare at it while his stomach growls. It would serve him right.   
  
But what he says piques her interest because that's why she's down there in the first place, and she can't help but ask. “Why have they started coming down here?”   
  
The question seems to surprise him. But after a few moments the surprise darkens into something quietly furious. Even the brown of his eyes seem to darken. The corner of his lip twitches, but it's not from humor.   
  
“Nice try, scavenger. Pretty show, sending you down here.” He backs away from the transparisteel so that his face is once more shrouded in darkness.   
  
Rey narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about?”   
  
“I’m not going to give anything up,” he shakes his head, his fists clenched at his sides. He sounds livid, but underneath that is something else. Something directed at her.   
  
Something like hurt.   
  
Which is ridiculous.   
  
Something in her heart stutters.   
  
“I'm not asking you to,” she snaps, unsure of why she's defending herself. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”   
  
“It doesn't matter anyway,” he sneers.   
  
A part of her, the part that's actually hearing what he's saying, tells her that they're questioning him. That that's why the generals have been there, that that's why Luke looks so saddened. What else could it be? But it's not like he's being tortured, even if they are questioning him.   
  
The Resistance isn't the First Order.   
  
Not that Kylo doesn't deserve a little of the pain he's given others.   
  
Even if he-   
  
“Don't pretend that you're an innocent victim in all of this.” The cold bites into her as she says this, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She's had enough of being down here, of trying to talk to him. She doesn't know why she even decided to try. “I'm not here to ask you any questions,” she added, crouching down to insert the tray into the small slot at the bottom of the cell wall. It’s just big enough to slide the food under.   
  
His scoff draws her attention and her ire. “Then why are you here, scavenger?”   
  
She opens her mouth to fling back a retort, something evasive and argumentative, but the words don't come.   
  
Crouched down as she is, Kylo looks like a giant, even from where he stands on the other side of the cell. The light from the lantern only barely reaches him, but it mostly just casts more shadows in the dark. That storm inside of him continues to rage, beating against her senses like sand in a sandstorm, relentless and violent.   
  
Despite herself, she almost expects to feel a spark of fear, or even just a sense of apprehension, from staring at him. But she doesn't. She doesn't feel any of that.   
  
He seems...very alone, standing in the dark of his cell.   
  
A strange thought.   
  
It's not pity that wells in her chest, but a sort of understanding. If nothing else, she understands what it's like to be trapped somewhere she doesn't want to be - knows what it's like to be someone's prisoner, trapped beyond all hope of escape.   
  
She knows how it feels to be a caged animal, alone against everyone else. And he has a broken wing, too.   
  
This is her fault. Not that she feels responsible for his choices, or what he's done leading up to this moment. The choices he's made are all his own. Yet, this exact moment, this exact situation– that's on her, at least in part.   
  
If only he hadn't taken that hit for her. If only he hadn't put her in the awful position of feeling...indebted to him, somehow. Like she owes him.   
  
She's glad that he got hurt; it's the least of what he deserves for what he's done. Less than the least. But-   
  
His bruise looks almost black in the shadows. Bandages poke over the collar of his shirt.   
  
Those are for her.   
  
Kylo Ren got those protecting her.   
  
He looks at her like he's waiting for the answer to his question. She stays crouched by the floor, as far away as possible, but she doesn't look away.   
  
“Why did you do it?”   
  
Those aren't the words she means to say. But when she opens her mouth, they're the words that come out.   
  
He doesn't expect that. Something in his posture changes, like he's only just decided that she's not about to try and kill him. She didn’t notice that he was so on guard. But then he angles his body a little, like he's about to turn away. Not like there's anywhere for him to go.   
  
She's mesmerized by his face, by how his eyes widen, then narrow. By how he licks his lips and swallows, then works the muscles in his jaw. What words are rolling around on his tongue?   
  
If he was standing closer to the light, maybe she could read his eyes better...   
  
When he speaks, his voice is suddenly hoarse, filled with more emotion than she can interpret. “Don't you know?” he asks.   
  
No, she doesn't.   
  
She has no idea why her enemy would choose to actively save her, getting himself wounded and captured in the process. She's about to ask if he knew what would happen when he did it – surely he must have – when he scoffs.   
  
“No. Of course not.”   
  
Kylo walks towards her then, or rather, towards the tray of food. Rey stands and backs away on reflex when he gets close to the transparisteel, which he doesn't react to beyond a frown. He bends down with a wince to pick it up, all the while pointedly keeping eye contact with her.   
  
She's not sure which of them has the other in a trance.   
  
His eyes are very brown.   
  
There's a shift in the storm she senses from him, a spike of something dark. He drops his left arm to his side and balls his hand into a fist. After a moment he flinches and starts to turn away, the first to break from her gaze.   
  
He silently sits back down on the bench, placing the tray on his lap. For a moment he just flexes his left hand as if he's testing it. Then he looks back at her.   
  
“What's wrong with your arm?” she can't help but ask.   
  
“Nothing,” he snaps too quickly, and drops it to his side. He keeps it tucked against his leg, like he's trying to hide something.   
  
“Do you need another bacta patch or something?”   
  
“No.”   
  
The pain in his arm, whatever it is, is different from the rest of his injuries. She can tell, because as wounded as he is, he is able to hide the extent of his pain from his other injuries fairly well. She has no idea the extent of the damage hidden behind the clothes and bandages. But his arm-   
  
It's hurting him. And unlike his other injuries, she can sense it. Almost like it's emitting it's own type of darkness.   
  
She hadn't noticed before.   
  
“I feel it,” she says, stepping up to the transparisteel. Without thinking, she lays her hand against its cool surface. “Why can I feel it?”   
  
For a moment he doesn't answer her. She raises her eyes to his to find him studying her. There's a strange look to his face, one she can't quite place. He doesn't look happy.   
  
He sets his tray of food to the side. Then, without a word, he pulls up his left sleeve.   
  
Rey's eyes widen. She sucks in a breath through her teeth.   
  
A dead tree. That's what it reminds her of. That, or lightning made out of darkness. As if someone has replaced his blood with tar, the veins around his wrist have turned a near-black color, flowing thick and dark under his pale skin. They stretch up all of the way to the crook of his elbow. She can't see if they go beyond that. His hand is still covered by his glove, but she's willing to bet the veins in his hand look much the same.   
  
It's like he's been cursed.   
  
“What is that?” she breathes.   
  
He responds after a moment. “A souvenir. My punishment for defying the Supreme Leader.”   
  
Rey can barely take her eyes off of it. It seems to radiate his pain; suddenly it makes sense that she can sense it.   
  
“Snoke did this to you?” As she says the words, realization dawns on her. “For saving me?”   
  
Kylo doesn't quite meet her gaze as he lowers his sleeve back over his arm. “Yes.”   
  
She swallows. “How do you fix it?”   
  
“You don't,” he says. “It's a death sentence. I'm not supposed to be able to ‘fix’ it.”   
  
All of the sudden, Rey is confronted with the very real possibility that Kylo Ren could die.   
  
Because he saved her.   
  
A death sentence.   
  
It's-   
  
She feels confused. She feels furious. And, deep down, she feels...terrified. It's all too much, she doesn't know what to think.   
  
She doesn't know how to feel.   
  
“No,” she shakes her head slowly. “That can't be true. I'll talk to Luke, he won't let you die-”   
  
“It doesn't matter if he lets me,” Kylo snaps, suddenly seemingly afraid to meet her eyes any more. He looks... livid. Scared. They're the same in that, at least. “Whether it's the Resistance or this,” he gestures towards his marked arm, “I'll be dead soon, anyway. There's no point.”   
  
“Yes, there is,” she insists. She doesn't know why, though, because even she doesn't want to think about what the point might be. The most traitorous part of her brain whispers that it knows, but she doesn't want to confront it. Doesn't want to say it.   
  
He scoffs and picks up his nutrient shake. Clearly, for him this conversation is over.   
  
But it isn't for her.

“Kylo.”  
  
“Run back to Skywalker,” he tells her. His arm flinches.   
  
She doesn't want to - she wants to stay and argue with him. She wants to will him to not just roll over and die. Come on, she wants to tell him, you're kriffing Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren doesn't just die-   
  
But she doesn't say anything. After several long moments, Rey makes herself back away from the transparisteel, letting her hand fall to her side. Then she turns and leaves to do exactly what he suggested.

* * *

Rey doesn’t bring him his next meal. Or the next.  
  
But she does talk to Luke once she gathers her courage. It takes her until they are back on the usual balcony, ending their evening meditation.   
  
She waits until he stands with her before broaching the subject.   
  
“I was under the impression that you've been avoiding him.” He isn't wrong, but for some reason Rey finds her ears flushing. “Have you started visiting him then?”   
  
It feels like she's admitting to some sort of wrongdoing. “Just recently.”   
  
“And he showed you the…corruption on his own?”   
  
“No,” she shakes her head. “I made him show me.”   
  
The ghost of a softer expression crosses Luke's face when she says that. But then his face becomes neutral again and she loses all sense of being able to read him. “And now you want to save him,” he observes, almost a question.   
  
“It's not that,” she hastens to clarify.   
  
Luke's eyebrows hike up on his forehead. “Then what is it?”   
  
For a moment the words get caught on her tongue.   
  
“He saved me,” is all she can say.   
  
“So you want to return the favor,” he nods.   
  
“No one can die because of me,” she adds, this time with more conviction. It would be unbearable to her, no matter who sacrificed themselves. But it would be even worse, somehow, if it were him.   
  
Not like that.   
  
Not consumed by Darkness.   
  
Not for her.   
  
“What do we have to do to fix it?” she asks, determined not to focus on the small part of her that tells her that she should let him die. He deserves it. Instead, she makes herself focus on the part of her – the significantly larger part – that demands that he not die for saving her, no matter what.   
  
But all Luke does is shake his head. His eyes grow incredibly sad.   
  
“There is nothing we can do.”   
  
She didn't hear him right, she thinks.   
  
“What?”   
  
He heaves a sigh and turns towards the sun lowering over the horizon. Soon the moon will appear to keep the star company as it falls out of view. He leans on the railing, looking out over the cold jungle. It looks very dark.   
  
“The corruption that's taken root in my nephew’s arm...” he trails off for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. “It's like a cancer of sorts, from what I can tell. Or a mutation in his living Force. I've studied the ways of the Jedi for decades, and yet,” he turns his gaze back to her.   
  
She reaches out to hold the railing as well. A subconscious gesture.   
  
“I don't know how to heal him,” he admits. “I don't even know if he can be healed.”   
  
The feeling in her chest is akin to the first time she tried to construct her own speeder back on Jakku. She had watched as her months and months of work and sacrifice had amounted to...nothing. A great, heaping pile of nothing. A waste of time.   
  
It's disappointment, she thinks vaguely. Luke has never not had the answer before. She doesn't really know what to do with that.   
  
But she has to do something. “What does that mean?”   
  
He sighs again. “I'm going to travel to the nearby temple at first light. I'll meditate on what to do. With any luck, one of the old masters will guide me.”   
  
“To meditate?” She can't believe it - it's the biggest waste of time he could possibly do. “We should be out there, looking for some way to heal corruption like that.”   
  
“No,” he shakes his head. “There's not enough time to search the galaxy blindly in the hopes of finding something so specific. I will do what I can, but our best hope is the temple.”   
  
Rey presses her lips together. She has little faith in the reliability of old masters and even older stone. She's not even sure that she believes that ghosts in the Force come back to guide the living. They're nice stories, but she doesn't need nice stories.   
  
Luke, as always, seems to know exactly what she's thinking. “Have patience, Rey. Stay here and see what you can do. I'll be back as soon as I can.”   
  
“What am I supposed to do?” She can't help but sound a little petulant.   
  
Luke’s eyes are so very somber.   
  
“Just stay with him. Keep him company. He might not have long with us.”

* * *

Luke leaves before first light.  
  
Rey is the one to bring Kylo his breakfast. He barely looks up in acknowledgement of her from where he's still slumped on the bench.   
  
“Finally cared enough to grace me with your presence?” he sneers, but his heart isn't in it. She finds his petulance easier to ignore than before.   
  
“I have your breakfast,” is all she says.   
  
He doesn't look like he's gotten any sleep recently. Maybe it's the darkness of his cell - maybe it’s throwing off his sleeping pattern, whatever it used to be. Or maybe his mind is disquieted by being the continued prisoner of the Resistance.   
  
Or maybe he's just in too much pain, she thinks. He stands slowly, controlling his movements so precisely that she knows his wounds are still killing him.   
  
But what's really killing him-   
  
Her eyes fall to his arm.   
  
“Don't do that,” he snaps.   
  
She lifts her chin, put on the defensive by his tone. “Don't do what?”   
  
“I don't want your pity.” He draws nearer to her, to the transparisteel. He's still wearing the same clothes as before, she notices. It doesn't look like they've let him bathe.   
  
Rather than engage in a pointless argument about pity – she doesn’t pity him, she doesn’t – she instead delivers his meal and takes a step back. He watches her the entire time, but he doesn't move to pick up the food.   
  
“Luke is trying to find a way to fix your arm.” She tries to say it evenly, to not let any of her confusing emotions bleed through her words. She's not sure how well she succeeds.   
  
Kylo scoffs. “I'm sure.”   
  
She crosses her arms across her chest. “You're lucky to have a family that loves you so much. Even after everything-”   
  
“Skywalker isn't my family,” he cuts her off as he gingerly bends to pick up his food. After a moment, he adds, “I killed my family.”   
  
He doesn't lift his eyes to hers.   
  
She should be furious at him. For everything he's done to his mother and his uncle – and his father. For hurting Finn. For all the death he's caused.   
  
Good riddance, she should think. Good riddance that he's in pain and paying for his crimes, that he's going to-   
  
But when she looks at him, all she can think is ‘this is the man who saved me’.   
  
And he's going to die for it.   
  
Maybe it is pity.   
  
But there's something else, too, in the feeling that swells in her chest. Something sharper that almost hurts. Luke told her to keep him company, but in this moment she decides for herself.   
  
She won't leave him to die.   
  
Her arms fall to her sides. “He's going to find a way to save you.”   
  
“No he won't,” Kylo speaks blandly, as if he can't be bothered to put emotion into his tone. “I know where we are. There's nothing on this planet, nothing in the old temple. He won't find anything.”   
  
“I didn’t tell you he went to the temple.”   
  
He gives her a look. “You didn't have to. I felt him leave.”   
  
It strikes her how powerful he must naturally be. She tries to not let that make her overly wary of him.   
  
He must notice the look on her face, because he adds, “It’s not hard. Skywalker is like a walking thunder strike.”   
  
The comparison takes her by surprise. “You're the storm,” she says, then instantly regrets it.   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
Rey shrugs, more of an awkward lift of her shoulders. “That's...what you feel like to me. That's how I sense you. You're a storm.”   
  
The look he gives her is entirely unreadable. Somehow the shadows on his face seem deeper. For a long moment, neither of them speak. She refuses to feel bad if she unintentionally insulted him.   
  
But then he says, “You’re the sky.”   
  
She blinks. “What?”   
  
“If we're going with weather analogies,” he says, sitting back down on the bench with the same amount of control with which he stood up, “then you're the clear sky. Endless possibilities.”   
  
It sounds like a compliment, she _thinks_. But she's not really sure what to say to that, how to respond. So she doesn't say anything at all. Until she can't help herself.   
  
“Why did you do it?”   
  
Kylo sighs, and there's something equally frustrated and sad in the sound. His frown looks very sharp in the small light of his cell. Then he looks at her and she knows that she still won't get a straight answer.   
  
“Do you really want to know?” he asks, but she thinks that it's a rhetorical question.   
  
She doesn't answer.   
  
By the tilt of his head, he didn't expect her to.

* * *

No one questions when she takes over delivering Kylo’s meals. The Resistance fighters are all too happy to relinquish that duty to someone who has already managed to hold her own against such a terrifying man. But people notice.  
  
The General notices.   
  
Rey expects the questions. When General Organa pulls her aside on her way back from delivering Kylo's evening meal, she expects to be bombarded with questions. But the General only asks one.   
  
“Does he look worse?”   
  
Her eyes carry a deep sadness, an ache even more profound than what she sees in Luke’s gaze. Strangely, Rey thinks that it makes her brown eyes look very pretty.   
  
They're the same shade as Kylo's. How hasn't she noticed before?   
  
Rey nods. She won't lie to his mother. “Yes. And I think...” she trails off. Perhaps she shouldn't finish.   
  
But the general knows what she was going to say. “His pain is growing.”   
  
It's difficult to hold her gaze. It's even harder to find the right thing to say. “Can't…we do something? Maybe a medication?”   
  
“I've tried,” the woman shakes her head bitterly, “but any additional drugs in his system runs the risk of weakening the interrogation serums. So of course I wasn't able to do anything.”   
  
“Interrogation serums?” She parrots.   
  
“The ones they use when they question him.” General Organa’s back is ramrod straight. She can tell how much it pains the woman to talk about this, to know that this is really happening to her child. “He apparently has an abnormally strong resistance to its effects. They won't try but once or twice more.”   
  
Rey's brows furrow. She realizes that there is an implication to the General’s words, she just doesn’t know what it is. “What will they do after that?”   
  
The General suddenly looks very old, so old that she could crumple to dust with the smallest gust of wind. She doesn't seem to be a general anymore, but just a mother instead. A mother who has lived to see her son do terrible things and still loves him regardless.   
  
“They held his so-called ‘trial’ while you were still unconscious.”   
  
Rey shifts her weight, not really sure why there's a growing knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. She understands nothing of how trials work except that they decide the fate of the person put on one. And she can guess well enough what the result of a trial against someone like Kylo Ren might be.   
  
“If he doesn't give up any information within the allotted amount of time, he'll be executed. Hell, they'll execute him either way.” Kylo’s mother’s demeanor hardens until she is the General again, bitter and tired.   
  
“But,” Rey still doesn't know quite what to say. “If he gives up some information, surely-”   
  
General Organa shakes her head once. “They won't. There are a lot of people here who want Ben to pay for what he's done. You were one of them, last I checked.” Rey is about to open her mouth – in protest or affirmation, she isn't sure – but the General continues, “I'm glad that's changed.”   
  
All Rey can do is sigh.   
  
Maybe it has, she allows. Maybe she doesn't want him to die. She's getting used to the feeling of the storm beneath her feet.   
  
The General adds one more thing. It's spoken calmly, as in control as ever, but Rey can hear the despair behind the words. The resignation. “There is a ledger of wrongs that have been done, Rey. The execution of one of the highest First Order officers will go a way towards wiping it clean. The Resistance will have my son’s head, and there isn't anything I can do to stop them.”   
  
Kylo's mother can't do anything to help him.   
  
But she made no mention of Rey.

* * *

Kylo doesn't expect to see her so late. She can see it in the tilt of his brow when he sits up from where he had been lying on the bench, and because he immediately wants to know what she's doing there so late at night.  
  
But he's happy to see her.   
  
Rey can feel it for just a moment, his pleasure at seeing her so soon, like a blanket that spreads out across his cell. It's almost enough to overpower the feeling of the corruption in his arm, before the pain flairs and all pleasantness evaporates like water.   
  
She has a bone to pick with him anyway. She doesn't want him to feel happy.   
  
“They're going to execute you,” she throws at him like an accusation.   
  
He clutches his arm to his chest. His brow arches. “Yes.”   
  
“When were you going to tell me?” she demands, stepping closer to the transparisteel with her hands on her hips.   
  
“I thought you were already aware.”   
  
She shakes her head. “No, of course I wasn't. Didn't I just tell you that we were going to save your life?”   
  
He frowns. “And didn't I tell you that it didn't matter?”   
  
“You can't do that,” she pounds her fists once against the divide between them. She would have been surprised with herself if she wasn't so worked up. “You can't just roll over and die. Not because of me.”   
  
He looks at her like she's crazy. Also a little stupid. It's just makes her more furious.   
  
“None of this is because of you.” He says it like he's irritated that he has to spell it out for her. He stands as gingerly as before, careful to keep his weight off his injuries. His arm stays clenched at his side.   
  
She pushes herself away from the transparisteel wall and runs her hand over her forehead. “Everything that's happening is because of me.”   
  
He scoffs. “Did you not just hear me?”   
  
“No,” she jams her finger in his direction, “don't try that. We both know it's true. You saved me, and because of that you got hurt, and you got caught, and,” she gestures sharply towards his arm. “Everyone's sentenced you to death, all because of me.”   
  
There's that strange expression on his face again, the one he wore the first time she asked him why he saved her. She thinks that she hates that expression. It's too full of emotions that she doesn't want to think about, and she doesn't understand half of them.   
  
She doesn't know what it means at all, except that he is as full of feeling as ever. And it makes her ears grow hot.   
  
He presses his right hand to the transparisteel.   
  
“That was my choice.”   
  
“Why did you do it?” she demands one last time. She is past not wanting to face whatever he might say, she just wants to know – needs to know – what it is about her that could possibly be worth dying for.   
  
That look on his face is only the ghost of an answer.   
  
And it's not enough.   
  
“I think you know,” he says. His eyes look very dark. She can hardly tell that they're brown at all.   
  
She takes a step towards him. Reaching out, she barely brushes her fingers over the place where his hand is pressed against the other side. She stares at their hands for a moment, then she looks back up at him.   
  
This is crazy. He still deserves to die. He deserves-   
  
With a ferocity in her voice that nearly surprises her, she says, “I won't let you die for me.”

* * *

Luke returns that night, but Rey is waiting to confront him before he even makes it all of the way back inside the base.  
  
“I'm going to break him out,” she tells him.   
  
Luke looks tired, but not because of what she’s said. “There are the guards,” he cautions.   
  
“I can take care of them.” They both know she can.   
  
“And you have to sneak him out of the base.”   
  
That part she isn't so confident about. “I'll…need your help with that,” she admits. She will also need his help with healing his corruption. “Did you find the answers you were looking for at the temple?”   
  
He hesitates, but only momentarily. “Possibly,” he nods, “but I would have to bring him to the temple with me. And you.”   
  
She blinks. “Me?”   
  
But Luke isn't in the mood to explain, it seems, because he just says, “We should break him out tonight. I was gone longer than I had meant to be.”   
  
Sooner is better than later for her anyway. That way she won't come to her senses and lose her nerve.   
  
She's going to save Kylo Ren. She would be lying to herself if she said that she is only doing it for his mother or because she owes him.   
  
But any other reason she might have – it doesn’t matter.   
  
She nods. “Okay.”

* * *

They wait until the dead of night, when there are fewer people who are likely to catch them. The guards outside Kylo's cell are no problem, and Kylo himself only has a momentary pause before he follows them. They almost make it all the way across the base without getting noticed.  
  
General Organa catches them anyway.   
  
Rey thinks she must have sensed it.   
  
“What are you doing?” she asks. Her voice is raw, and she can't seem to take her eyes off of her son. But there are no tears in her eyes. Never any tears.   
  
Kylo Ren won't look her in the eye.   
  
“We're saving his life,” is what Luke says.   
  
She's the only reason they're able to sneak him off the base. Rey knows it, and Luke seems to realize it, too.   
  
She wonders if Kylo does.   
  
He doesn't speak for the rest of their escape.

* * *

The sky is beginning to brighten just slightly by the time they reach the temple. It's just a simple stone structure that's been carved into the mountains and has been almost entirely overgrown by the local plant life, but she can feel its residual power. She can almost imagine the legendary Jedi meditating in the main hall, which is open to the jungle on two sides.  
  
On one side, the sun is starting to rise. On the other, the moon hangs in the sky, soon to disappear in the next few hours. The Jedi must've designed it that way, she thinks. So the sun and the moon could be seen together, working in harmony.   
  
It's beautiful, in its way. But the temple’s simple beauty is the last thing on her mind.   
  
Kylo doesn't look good – his hair is plastered to his pale forehead in dark clumps despite the fact that it's cold enough that their breath crystallizes before them. His arm is clutched against his chest.   
  
A part of her wants to ask him if he's alright, but she knows that he'll just get defensive, and then she'll get defensive. So she doesn't.   
  
“This is the place,” Luke announces, standing in the middle of the open temple. “Both of you, come and sit here.”   
  
Rey immediately complies, but Kylo hesitates. She sends him a look as she sits at the center so that the moon is at her back, and crosses her legs under her.   
  
“Are you coming or what?”   
  
His eyes stray around the temple, then linger on his uncle, who doesn't say or do anything. Then he drops his gaze to her. “This isn't going to work.”   
  
“You don't know that.” Her irritation spikes over the fact she keeps having to insist that there's still hope for him. She doesn't want to have to convince him to try and live.   
  
He draws near, towering over her as he says, “This isn't really worth it for you. Whether or not I die doesn't matter. You'll still be held accountable.”   
  
“We'll deal with that when the time comes,” Luke speaks up.   
  
Kylo shoots his uncle a glare, but after another moment he sits so that the sun is to his back. He crosses his legs as well, sitting close enough that his knees brush against hers. Rey’s skin feels hyper-aware of the contact, even with two layers of clothes between them.   
  
She firmly ignores that.   
  
“What are we going to do?” he asks her. She looks up at Luke.   
  
He moves to stand back from them, closer to the temple entrance. “Meditate-”   
  
“Are you kidding me?” Kylo instantly starts to get up, but halts and grunts as he clutches his arm. She can feel the pain radiating off of him like waves of poison.   
  
He sits back down and her hand goes for his sleeve. She pushes it up higher than he did when he showed her, past even his elbow.   
  
“How bad has it gotten?” she demands. He knocks her hand away and pulls his sleeve back down.   
  
“It's killing me,” he says like he has to remind her. “Of course it's bad.”   
  
She stares at him. “Let me see.”   
  
He stares back at her, working his jaw like he's keeping himself from saying something stupid. But then he reaches up and grabs the back of his shirt. He pulls it over his head in one motion.   
  
It's bad.   
  
That's an understatement.   
  
It's...much worse than she thought.   
  
There are a few bacta patches left, and more scars than she wants to count. But that's not what captures her attention. It's the corruption. The Dark, molten veins have spread up to his shoulder, and down a few of his ribs. The dark tendrils reach close, so close to his heart.   
  
That will be the end of it, she knows. The darkness will kill him when it gets to his heart.     
  
All she can do is stare.   
  
“We don't have much time,” Luke says. She doesn't know if he’s referring to this poison, corruption, death under Kylo's skin or the time they have before they're discovered, but she agrees.   
  
Silently, Kylo puts his shirt back on.   
  
“What I want you to do is meditate on the temple,” he throws his nephew a glance so that he doesn't interrupt. “The power here is drawn from the balance of the planet. The moon and the sun work in perfect harmony here, and the power of the living Force is focused through this temple.”   
  
“How is that supposed to help?” Kylo asks testily. Rey doesn't want to admit it, but she doesn't think it sounds very promising, either.   
  
But Luke doesn't seem concerned. “We can't make that mark go away, but we don't have to. That's what I realized when I came to meditate. Your mark, that corruption– it's just an overwhelming manifestation of the dark side that’s caught in your body. It's impossible to rid anyone of the dark side, but you don't have to. You just have to balance it against the light.”   
  
Rey breathes in. It makes sense.   
  
“That's why I'm here.” It's not a question, but a statement.   
  
“Yes,” Luke nods.   
  
Kylo looks as if he understands as well, but he still looks skeptical. His dark eyes flicker towards her. “Is this dangerous-?”   
  
_For her_. That's what he isn't willing to say. His concern surprises her a little – but it also doesn't, and the part of her that isn't surprised unnerves her. She rolls her eyes in an attempt to hide it.   
  
“Don't worry about me,” she snaps.   
  
He gives her a flat look, but he can't hide his concern behind it. She still sees. She wonders if he can see through her just as clearly. “I saved your life,” he says. “You’ll excuse me if I'm not so eager to undo all of my hard work.”   
  
Rey opens her mouth to throw something back at him, but Luke speaks up. “We have to do this now, when the temple’s power is at its strongest. Once the sun rises and the moon disappears, our chance is over.”   
  
So she closes her mouth and closes her eyes. She knows he does the same when she hears him let out a slow breath.   
  
It's always been difficult for her to meditate in the morning. But this time feels...different. She has a purpose, has a focus.   
  
The temple’s energy flows around them, accessed as easily as opening a simple door. Or maybe it’s just because their energies fit together so well that they can access the power so easily.   
  
She hadn't expected that – for her and Kylo's energies to wrap around each other like a knot, tying together to form something strong and sturdy. Rey finds that she fits quite comfortably in the center of his storm, an eye nearly as large as the storm itself.   
  
Luke's voice is there, instructing them, but she barely hears it.   
  
They turn their focus from the power of the temple, looking inward instead. Looking towards Kylo.   
  
Rey wonders what he would look like if Snoke hadn't marked him with so much darkness. In her mind’s eye he looks like he's going up in smoke, starting from his left hand. It's hard to tell what's underneath that.   
  
She feels herself reach out to him as he pulls her closer. Her hand – or the mental projection of her hand – reaches out for where his is consumed by darkness. Her fingers look almost liquid, shining like the ocean when it reflects the sun.   
  
His dissolving form becomes solid underneath her shining fingers, and he tries to help her see through the darkness. His very bones seem darkened with a corruption of the Force.   
  
She reaches out to wipe the corruption away, but she just mixes in with it. Every touch of her hand against his skin leaves a residue, like she is rubbing off on him somehow. She doesn't know what she's doing, but his darkness is becoming a slate gray, and she senses that that's enough.   
  
When she's done, he looks like a storm cloud once more. But it's different, because there's a reflection of the sun behind it. She doesn't quite know what she's seeing.   
  
But she's left a part of herself with him. She knows that much. And when she looks down, she sees that she has turned gray, too. Like bright gray water.   
  
In the last moments, their shared meditation turns into something warm. Something like the beginning of a new day.   
  
Then it's over.   
  
Rey opens her eyes, and the sun is shining on her. It frames Kylo in a small ring of golden light.   
  
When he opens his eyes, his gaze immediately finds hers. Then he looks down at his arm and yanks his sleeve back.   
  
The veins, which had just moments ago looked like black poison webs reaching for his heart, are gone. Instead, his veins running up his arm are a normal, faint blue.   
  
But there is a scar. Around his wrist, the veins look slate gray. And when she looks, there's a scar on her wrist, too.

* * *

Letting Kylo go free doesn't strike her as a particularly safe option for the rest of the galaxy. Then again, his master has already tried to kill him. The Resistance has tried to kill him.  
  
There's really nowhere for him to go.   
  
Nothing to do but disappear if he wants to keep the life they just managed to save.   
  
The thought of never seeing him again doesn't make her feel any better.   
  
His eyes look almost amber in the morning sun before he turns to go, and she can't get that color out of her head even as she watches him leave for the location of Luke’s old starfighter.   
  
There is something in her chest screaming that this is wrong. That she shouldn't let him leave like this.   
  
She's just...not sure that it's because she knows he's a danger to the galaxy.   
  
“You're bound together now, in a way.”   
  
Rey’s gaze tears from the sight of Kylo's retreating back to look over at Luke. He's watching her with a suspiciously neutral look.   
  
“What do you mean?” she asks.   
  
“You've always been bound together, since the moment you met,” he goes on, “that's the only reason why this worked. You gave him some of your light and took some of his dark. You're the only reason he's alive right now.”   
  
For a moment, she just studies him. Her other hand drifts to her wrist with the new scar. “I don't understand what you're trying to say.”   
  
His brows hike up a little on his forehead. Then he looks back over at his nephew. “I'm asking you not to leave him alone. Without you...” he drifts off, as if suddenly lost in thought.   
  
Rey braces herself to voice her next question. Her heart is thundering in her chest when she asks, “He cares for me, doesn't he?”   
  
Luke looks over at her.   
  
“That's why he saved me.”   
  
For a moment he considers her. “Is that a question?”   
  
After a moment, she shakes her head.   
  
“No.”   
  
He nods. “Then what will you do? He's still Kylo Ren. He hasn't changed.”   
  
All of this she knows. Deep down, she knows that he's the same as he's always been. But she also knows that she's made the right decision by saving his life.   
  
Any more than that?   
  
Her heart might as well be trying to climb out of her mouth, it feels lodged up so far in her throat. Her heartbeat is echoing in her ears. She doesn't think very long about her answer. She doesn't let herself.   
  
She just goes on instinct.   
  
“Kylo!”


End file.
